Hello, goodbye, hello

Last summer was extremely dry, dusty and dull here in Massachusetts. The drought was so severe, most creeks and water holes in our town had vanished. Plants and animals were incredibly thirsty and hungry, as most flowers and therefore fruits never made it.

One crisp morning in the beginning of fall, my dogs and I took off for our daily walk. And despite the early hour, we could feel the pang of sun blasting on our shoulders. As we passed by a farm field, I jumped to avoid stepping on something really odd near my foot — something black that didn’t quite look like a rock. I told the dogs to stop and, when I bent over, there was the tiniest of turtles, eyes closed, immobile, too weak and too young to acknowledge the gigantic monster who had just picked it up and placed it on the palm of her hand.

Tarugo in the fall, a bit after his arrival. He freaked me out every time he hid under the rocks. I thought he’d drown. So I was constantly scooping him up. Total chopper mom! :)

Frieda and Lola happily sniffed the diminute creature. I wasn’t sure if it was alive. I was sure, though, if alive, it wouldn’t survive long under that sun, away from water. Every creature in the forests and fields was starved and possibly desperate. We were all fading in boiling heat. I had just given a lecture on gardening and drought in which my co-speaker, a University professor responsible for addressing implications of the drought to wildlife, had urged everyone to feed and provide plenty of water to all animals. Like. Now. Leave-this-lecture-and-go-pour-some-water type of feedback.

Of course I took the little turtle home and put it in a plastic bowl. Thank goodness for the Internet. In a matter of minutes I found out the newborn was a snapping turtle, a carnivore, and someone who would need shallow waters for a while. Baby turtles can easily drown during their first days of life. And most of them die before drowning, eaten by raccoons and other medium-sized carnivores.

Tarugo in his first 10-gallon aquarium. Happy to be sheltered by rocks.

It was nice to have a baby in the house after saying goodbye to my dear Geppetto three years ago, and then to Frieda in November, a few months after Tarugo arrived. He helped keep my spirits up while I coped (not so well) with such heartbreaking losses. Tarugo kept growing fast and steadily, chomping away loads of turtle kibble and dried shrimp (his favorite), and gave to our family — humans, cats and dogs alike — something to look forward to every day when things didn’t look so bright. Tarugo even kept company to my kitty Crosby, who couldn’t have enough of watching the turtle swim in circles and stretch his enormous neck to attack the floating food pellets.

As Tarugo grew, I marveled and learned. What an incredible creature! He looked very scaly and ancient, but his paws and legs were the softest things I’d ever touched. Such amazing contrast! His poops were the most foul droppings I had ever smelled. He would poop, the water would turn dark green and clog the most expensive of filters. Can you imagine Tarugo full-grown, weighing 50 pounds, and dumping his regular logs in the water inside the house?? I constantly considered the maddening vapors that would emanate through the house, which were now as funny and amusing as Crosby’s poops. (That cat is so stinky I once took him to a full battery of tests but the result was he was healthy — and stinky. LOL) But all that wouldn’t be so funny multiplied by ten, as Tarugo’s poops grew in accordance to his size…

Tarugo hanging out with Crosby. They spent hours staring at each other.

Yes, I considered keeping him. He never bit me. He came when I fed him. I smiled as I watched him blink his eye the first time. (Yes, one eye. A second later he blinked the other eye. So cute!!) But he could become a tremendous hazard to us all and himself. First, he would probably outlive us, as snappers live to be 50 or 60. On a steady supply of refined chow (compliments of the house), I wouldn’t doubt if he lived to be 100! What would become of him when Martin and I are gone? Unable to hunt in the wild, old and crabby? Who would adopt a giant chunky, cranky snapper?

Also, how could we provide for such a big creature at home, especially having extreme winters? He could stay in the pond we built for the dogs outside. But would we be safe? Tarugo never snapped at me, so I guess I’d be fine when I did pond maintenance. But I could totally picture him taking a chunk out of the belly of our exuberant neighbor Teddy the Lab after one of his bomb splashes in the pond. Or being attacked by another dog who passes by. Our pond is a place of gathering for all canines during the day, and all wildlife during the night. The frogs and toads are so loud we can barely sleep with our windows open during the summer. Tarugo would keep the place quiet, I suppose, by eating every one of them. But, really, that pond doesn’t fit a turtle the size of a Golden retriever, and I kinda a like our shrilly nocturnal rackets… :)

Where’s Tarugo??

Yes, as weeks went by, the water became darker and darker (LOL). And it became clearer and clearer that Tarugo couldn’t stay. I could see he was getting bigger, and eager for bigger adventures as well. As he grew, his tank was upgraded to a 10-gallon, then a 20-gallon, then a $10 kiddie pool from PetSmart. This month it just got to the point he was so bored in his aqua blue tub that I granted him access to our porch as well, with a wood ramp I built lined up with a rubber mat, so he wouldn’t skid. (Yes, I’m protective!) Within the confinement of our porch he could roam safely, escorted by one or two of our four cats at any given time. It was hilarious to see them so puzzled, watching the clumsy turtle walk around. There he also got used to the sounds of frogs and other night critters, as well as to the close proximity of insects and spiders.

That was part of the strategy I designed, based on extensive research, on how to train a snapping turtle to become the best combo of not-too-mellow-and-dependent, super-duper strong and wilderness-savvy enough to start a life outside on his own.

Cute, happy guy. :)

I started walking him in the yard. Yes. I walked him off leash. This was boot camp, folks! I was on a mission. This would be the best-trained turtle ever — no one would be more ready for the real pond in the woods than Tarugo. After many outings, he passed the walking-in-the-open test with flying colors. He trudged through all sorts of grass. He stopped, ducked and recoiled his elastic head as best as he could every time I walked too close. Chest and ego inflated, I felt prouder at every walk. My boy had great instincts!

I also took him for regular swims at a tiny pond (more like a mud puddle, LOL) I built this year for frogs and dragonflies, right next to my veggies. He would do some laps for 10 minutes or so, stopping to snap at some rocks (maybe eating tadpoles?), and then would emerge from the water, ready to walk into the woods. Of course I didn’t let him. He’d end up on the road or something. So after every swimming class I’d carry him back into the porch, and he would happily munch on some fresh shrimp tossed near his pointy head. Gosh, what a spoiled turtle!

Tarugo growing a lot!

Last week, the temperatures soared, and the porch became too hot. It was time to transfer Tarugo to the nearby natural pond, the closest to the location I found him, therefore the probable place of his family residence. (If possible, rescue turtles should be delivered to the ponds they belong, as they have natural instincts to seek such places, even months after they are born.)

I was a bit sad about saying goodbye to him, but I could also see he was getting impatient and bored as he grew bigger and stronger.

It was early in the morning when I placed him in a plastic container and went on my trail hike with Tarugo — the same path I walked the other way, with him on my hand, many months earlier. I walked fast to minimize the length of his weird bumpy trip. The sun was again very hot, but this time we had plenty of water everywhere. It had been raining like crazy.

Tarugo, sort of freaked out in his Tupperware, ready for his trip to the big pond nearby.

As I walked down the farm path, guess who was coming toward us? A momma snapper — her shell the size of a dinner plate! She was surely on her way to lay eggs. I said a bubbly hello, told her about Tarugo and his stay with us, and let me tell you she did not like it. She quickly retracted her head into the shell as much as she could (snapping turtles can’t totally hide inside) and turned her body like a compass, head aiming at me as I passed by her on the trail. She was ready to snap if necessary.

I showed her baby Tarugo and told her he was finally going for a swim at a real pond, but Momma was not feeling chatty. So I took some pictures of her (otherwise no one would believe my story) and happily entered the woods, heading to the pond. I took the coincidence more as a wonderful sign that that was the perfect day for Tarugo’s release. A circle was somehow being completed.

Momma turtle, not happy about my chatter!

When we got to the pond, the temperature was nice and cool under the trees, where the waters were shallow. That was a corner where we see less dogs and people. A mild breeze took the heat off our necks, and I felt that was a safe location for him to start his new life. I released Tarugo on the muddy patch, and the little guy — now too big to fit on my hands — walked clumsily to the water with purpose (you wouldn’t believe how fast snapping turtles can be when they make up their minds about something). He inspected the puddle he got in, went over a huge log that divided those waters from the rest of the pond, quickly explored the surroundings, swimming and emerging his nostrils here and there for a quick breath, and finally disappeared, heading toward the deeps of the pond.

During the year we spent together, I called his name twice every time before feeding him, in the hopes he’d learn it was me, and come if I ever called him and he happened to be hungry. A week has elapsed, and I haven’t gathered the courage to go back to the pond and call him. I am 100% positive that, even though I treated him like a king, he was happy to say goodbye to our clan and our clumsy but well-meant arrangements. He is a turtle on steroids, with quite the head start in life thanks to our generous feeding schedule. But still, he is a turtle, and he was visibly ready to explore deeper waters and richer environments I wouldn’t be able to provide.

His goodbyes were easier than my goodbyes. He looked back twice, when sticking his head out of the water to breathe and assess his surroundings. I lingered for a half hour, inspecting the surface, trying to discern his head from pieces of branches and swaying debris on the water surface. But I felt proud of my Tarugo. I felt like a turtle mom, not as grumpy as his natural mom, and a whole lot happier. One of these days, I’ll go say hello, shrimp in hand. I know he is not hungry. My little guy knows how to take care of himself. But I’m bringing his favorite treat, just in case his familiar stripy head emerges from the dark waters, enormous, majestic, and like me, gratified.

Tarugo hanging out in his plastic log, where he loved to hide and snooze.

A lovely telling of life with a snapping turtle. I’m so happy to hear from you. I thoroughly enjoyed your story. I’m sorry to learn of Frieda’s passing. I have faith we will see our beloved pets again. God blessings to you.

Thank you so much, Susispot! Those were tough times. But I’m back, and so happy to reconnect. Thank you so much for your lovely message!!

francesmary

I certainly understand how hard it must have been to have lost Frieda as well. Our pets are such beloved family members & each one an individual that brings so much joy to our lives. Having gone through such losses myself, I can share your pain. My sincere sympathy to you & Martin.

Dear Anya, it’s so nice to hear from you! She had bone cancer, so at the end, no pain medication was working, and this was it. But we gave her everything available to prolong her quality of life – chemo, meds, all meds she needed, and much much love. She lived way beyond the standard life expectancy for that type of cancer. And we took her for ice cream every day, car rides, walks — she really enjoyed every minute of it. :)

jeanpalmer

a lovely story of Tarugo! Your care for animals is so touching. Sympathy on your losses. I know someday I will meet up with all of my animals that I have lost over the years (too many) and that comforts me. I hope you do too.